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her.
    “I don’t like coincidences,” Morgan said.
    “Neither do I.”
    While Vince took a bathroom break, she called her section head. The conversation didn’t go well. She hung up and waited.
    When Vince returned, he said, “By the fact that we aren’t hustling after Kessler, I’m guessing the boss said he wasn’t going to the director with this.”
    Morgan shook her head. “He doesn’t think there’s enough to warrant cancelling the test.”
    “It is pretty flimsy evidence.”
    “Not too flimsy to merit two tickets to Australia, though. We’re on United out of LA this evening. I convinced him to send us to Pine Gap just to keep an eye on things.”
    Vince groaned. “Are you kidding? Fifteen hours on a flight to Sydney? At least tell me we’re flying business class.”
    Morgan shook her head. “Coach.”
    Another groan.
    “It gets worse. Did you look at Pine Gap on the map?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Sydney isn’t our final destination. We’ve got a connecting three-hour flight. Pine Gap is in the middle of the Australian outback, near Alice Springs.”
    This time Vince didn’t groan. “You just love trying to make me miserable.”
    “No,” Morgan said. “You do just fine on your own.”

FIVE
    If the bullet had gone through one of the front tires, the Land Rover would have skidded off the road and plummeted into the Shotover River long ago. And although the right rear tire was punctured, it hadn’t shredded, so Tyler was able to open up some distance between him and the rear-wheel-drive Toyota on the snowy road. With the curves throwing off their aim, the pursuers’ shots went wild. So far luck had favored the pursued.
    But two new problems faced them. Grant was now out of shells, and they had come down to an elevation where snow no longer covered the road. At the speed Tyler was going, the pavement would rip the punctured tire to tatters in minutes.
    “Where are the cops?” Tyler said to Grant in the backseat.
    “The dispatcher says they’re about two miles away.”
    Tyler saw in the mirror that the Toyota was closing fast. “If we stop, we’ll never be able to hold out until the police get here.”
    “There’s a small town up ahead,” Fay said. “Arthurs Point. We could run into a shop and get help.”
    “Do the shop owners carry guns?”
    “Shop owners in gun shops do.”
    “I don’t suppose there are any gun shops in this little town.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    Hiding in a store might work, or it might get innocent bystanders killed. Given that the gunmen were still in hot pursuit, it didn’t seem like they cared much about witnesses.
    Tyler saw a red sign flash by for Shotover Jet, the jet boats that take passengers on a high-speed ride down the Shotover River canyon. Grant had shown him a brief video of the boats when they were planning their trip to Queenstown, but Tyler hadn’t thought about it further because of the cold weather.
    “Fay,” he said, “do the jet boats run in the winter?”
    “Oh, yes. Year round.”
    He glanced in the mirror and saw Grant nodding. “It’d be hard for them to follow us.”
    Bullets hammered the tailgate.
    “Down!” Tyler shouted, but nobody had to be told to duck.
    The Toyota was less than a hundred yards behind them.
    The rear wheel was now grinding along the asphalt, throwing up a shower of sparks. At any moment the wheel itself might fly off, and then they would be easy prey.
    “Since they’re after me ,” Fay said, “the noble thing for me to do would be to offer to have you drop me off to distract them while you get away, but I have to admit I’m too scared to make the gesture.”
    “Don’t worry, Fay,” Tyler said. “That’s not an option.”
    “Good, because if you’re thinking of using the jet boats to get away from these men, the turnoff is coming up on the right.”
    Tyler was impressed. Even though she was frightened, Fay still kept her wits. Sure enough, a new sign for the jet boats pointed to the right.